To Feel
by SYuuri
Summary: That was what she was telling herself anyway. She didn't want to entertain the idea that he probably knew she felt better with him around. Safer. - Claire x Owen. [oneshot]


**To Feel**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just the ideas.**

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Claire sighed, slender fingers absently stroking the cool material of the bed sheets. It had been less than forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours since she thought she would lose her nephews, those two _rascals,_ she mused fondly. Zach was sixteen, and Gray was going to celebrate his eleven birthday in two months. She had promised that she was going to be there. They had made Owen promise to come with her. The two boys were now (hopefully) sleeping peacefully in their room shared with their parents.

It had been almost forty-eight hours since Claire thought she would die in the park she had helped create –the irony wasn't lost in her- and oh God, just how many lives _were_ gone because of her? Her fingers grabbed a handful of the crisp sheets, turning her knuckles white. She suddenly felt like she was drowning. Zara. Zara was getting married in just three weeks. Had anybody informed her family? Informed Matthew? She should call him, apologizing, and oh God, Zara had ( _had_ ) two little sisters. There were so many people Claire should call, so many, so _many_ people-

The muffled sound from the bathroom cut off her erratic train of thoughts. She exhaled, her heart tap-dancing in her chest. She remembered where she was, how she wasn't alone, and how there was no way she was going to break down in front of him. Claire inhaled.

Her fingers released the crumpled sheets and tried to smooth them down. The hotels were swamped with evacuated guests, and Claire had tightly suggested that she shared a room with Owen. She used to ran a park resort (was still running? She would have to deal with the aftermath, but it really felt like ten years had passed), she knew how much of a hassle things could be in a chaotic time like this. She had waited for the teasing she had been sure would follow, but Owen just looked at her, pensive and amused. She realized he also used to work in that park as well. That was what she was telling herself anyway; didn't want to entertain the idea that he probably knew she felt better with him around. Safer.

(She really did)

The door clicked unlocked and Owen walked out, puffs of warm mist filing out into the room. Claire bristled. While she didn't expect him to throw back on his filthy, torn up clothes, she also didn't expect him to just forgo robes altogether. He was bare-chested, a green towel wrapped around his waist. His damp hair looked darker than when it was dry. Claire stopped herself, mentally berating herself for even noticing the minute details about him. But she wouldn't be Claire Dearing if she didn't have an answer for everything. It was simple. Sharing near death experiences did funny things to people. They felt they were closer (they were – a sound in the back of her mind replied), they felt they knew and understand each other better (oh, they did – the sound agreed) and being realistic, Claire was sure the flame would burn down when the adrenaline rush were finally spent (really?).

Smiling that lop-sided grin, Owen padded closer and put a basin of hot water on the carpeted floor between their singles. Just where the hell did he get a basin? Then she remembered him phoning the housekeeping when she went to take her shower. "Your feet have got to be aching."

They were. Claire adored her high heels, both for work and recreational purposes. She could walk, run, _and_ outrun a T-Rex in a pair of heels like the best of them, but she wouldn't lie and say the steaming water didn't look tempting. It smelled like Owen had even put a couple drips of lavender, too.

"Is this a peace offering for what you said before?" She should've slapped him. She could, now. He was so close.

His eyebrows rose. "If you don't want it, I do. Can't waste perfectly fine water, especially when there are people in various places on earth who don't even have access to clean water."

Claire rolled her eyes. It was just _so_ Owen to say something like that.

(And since when did she know what kind of things he would say?)

(Maybe they did know and understand each other better).

"Oh, shut up." She swung her legs down and carefully dipped her big toe experimentally, literally testing the water. Try as she might, however, she couldn't hold back in her satisfied sigh when she finally pushed her feet down into the nearly scalding water. It felt so wonderful. Owen chuckled.

"I'm sorry for what I said," he said after a moment, looking genuinely sorry, and pushed himself up to sit on his bed.

Claire swallowed her smug smile, toes wiggling. She deserved it.

"I'm not sorry for those board shorts, though," he continued. She raised her head, ready to go on a rampage about decency when she noticed the wide grin on his face. The guy was practically beaming. His eyes were shining with mirth and Claire knew he was only pulling her legs. Suffice to say, she knew that when they had another date, he wouldn't show up in shorts.

IF. Not when, never when. _If_ they had another date. Or not. Though there's the date to Gray's birthday, wasn't it? She had promised. Owen had, too. It could be a date.

"For real though, Claire. You saved all of us. Saved my butts God knows how many times."

Her heart clenched. And how many people she helped kill? There she was, as happy as one could be after what had happened on the island, and as pampered as a princess. What rights did she have now for feeling like this when so many others couldn't?

She bit her lips to stop them from quivering, but she didn't need to. He knew. He was perceptive like that, (and maybe because he cared about her _like that_ ). She didn't know whether to feel relieved or what. It was tiring to think, there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, was it okay to just… feel?

"You have at least 20 IOUs you can cash in whenever you want," Owen said so seriously and so out of the blue that Claire burst out laughing. His stoic façade melted, replaced by that smile she'd come to love, the laughing lines crinkled on the side of his eyes. He looked so happy that he could make her laugh and it stirred something in her. "I never thanked you, didn't I? Unless, of course, that kiss is your preferred thank you-"

Mind made up, Claire gave her toes another wiggle and raised her legs from the now tepid water. Without warning she dropped them on his lap, the green material rapidly turning almost as dark as his hair.

"You're trying to tell me something, Ms. Dearing?" Typical, typical Owen Grady. He flashed her a predatory sneer that made her wonder whether he had learned it from Blue, or was it the other way around. She dug the ball of her foot into the hard muscle of his thigh.

"It's a towel." She answered plainly, giving him a pointed look for ignoring the obvious.

Chuckling, Owen grasped her feet. She would kick him if he dared to tickle her, not that she was _that_ ticklish, but his grip loosened. "You've got some cuts. I'll get some band-aids."

He squeezed her feet again before gently setting them down on the bed and walked off to where they had stored some of their emergency shopping bags.

Claire felt herself smiling. It was probably okay, to just feel.

With his back to her, Owen said, "Did you realize that I'm standing here in just a towel and nothing else, and you're complaining about the board shorts? Does that mean you're liking what you're seeing?"

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 **These two are too cute for words. Let me know what you think? :)**


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